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When the wind blows
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.bondage
From: [email protected]
Subject: Story: When the wind blows
Date: Sat, 6 Jun 1992 11:33:28 GMT
When the wind blows.
Still Waters
6/6/92
Dedicated to Heidi
Who knows
She was small, in almost all respects. The sort of person that you would
look at twice if it was a reasonably bland day and not too much was
happening, but not otherwise. You would have to be her feet to get to look
into those grey eyes, which was a great pity, for they were eyes that, when
they weren't looking at her shoes, could look straight into your soul. What
is more, they would almost always like what they found there.
She wore small clothing. Being only just over four foot meant that the
range of clothing was slightly more limiting than one might think. The
stores seemed to believe that one could only wear ravishingly beautiful
clothes if one was 6"2, with legs that came up to your labia, and a mane of
shining gold hair. Alas Nicola was not a supermodel, although she could
have been to one man.
Nicola wore dark clothes. She was 21, and had been at college for two
years. Her grades were average. Her friends tittered about perfume and
Womens magazines, and Kevin Costner, when the time was appropriate, and
Nicola did too. Although she found the life unsatisfying and shallow, she
followed through because they were the only friends she had. She was
shapely and attractive in her own way, but always convinced that she could
loose a little more weight. (In truth, she was in danger of becoming
anorexic.) Her legs, although short, were slender. Her waist, although
small, was shapely. Her black, close cropped hair fell in a slight fringe
over a forehead that constantly wore a frown. The only deviation from this
seemingly endless smallness were her breasts, which would have been much
more at home on a larger woman, and constantly tested the strength of her
small clothes.
One night, it happened. She was at a nightclub with friends, when she
bumped into the type of guy that every maturing woman dreams of. Tall,
blonde, handsome. Played football. Walking stereotype of the All American
wet dream. Also, slightly drunk, and who had a fetish for small girls and
big breasts. Looks passed across the cloudy, pulsing air, heavy with light
and sound. He was making a fool of himself of the dance floor, she was
sitting at a table with a glass of water. (She almost never danced. The
movement of her breasts always embarrassed her.) Friends laughed gently,
and were slightly stunned when they finally accepted that the blonde jock
was actually looking at Nicola. Introductions happened. Nicola somehow
ended up on the dance floor looking up into his blue eyes, as he looked
down the front of her dress. Friends looked on, dazed, from the sideline.
Mike clearly was trying to score that night. Nicola was lost in his eyes.
It was barely an hour after she had entered the club that Nicola found
herself in a car with Mike, travelling too fast and too erratically back to
the student dorms, commenting to each other how surprising it was that they
had never met before.
Mikes car pulled in, parked terribly, and a door swung open. Mike jumped
out, crossed to the other side, and opened the passenger door, helping
Nicola out. As she stood full up, Mike crouched down slightly, catching her
chin on the upswing, and lifting it to the correct angle for their first
kiss. They stood there for a while, Mike swaying slightly, Nicola with her
eyes closed, simply feeling.
Mike tried for a little feeling too, and his hand was soon groping its way
up to her breasts. Nicola started a little as he brushed her left nipple,
but visibly pulled back when he grabbed her, hard. Their lips broke
contact. Mikes hand slipped behind Nicola's back, as a smile crept across
his face. A smile somehow found it's way onto Nicola's visage too, a
wavering, hesitant smile, not at all sure that it should be there
underneath the fringe and frown, and wondering if it should not perhaps pop
off to the local bar for a stiff drink before coming back with artificially
boosted confidence for a proper go of it.
Mike drew her close with one hand, re-engaged his lips, and used the other
hand on Nicola's breasts again. He had clearly done this before.
From a window high up in the college dorm, eyes looked down on the parked
car, (noticeably askew in the neat line of similar automobiles) and watched
with a pained look at the serious groping that was taking place, almost,
and ironically, directly below the window.
Mike broke off the tongue contact, with his smile now firmly in place, and
led Nicola off towards one of the ground floor entrys. Up one flight of
stairs, and in a door. Shelves lined with trophys. A football on the floor.
Handcuffs appeared on her wrists as if by magic.
"Mmmnnn. That's better" Mike slurred, and kissed her again. Nicola was
slightly shaken, but both his hands on her breasts, squeezing rather hard
this time, was enough to drive the handcuffs out of her mind. Until she
realised that he had half her top off and there was nothing she could do
about it. Her top was around her wrists, adding to the strange sensation of
the cuffs. A cold wind was blowing in through the slightly open window, and
Nicola could feel it brush eroticaly against the tops of her breasts.
Then mike had his hands up underneath her bra, seemingly massaging them.
One hand came back out, and then she felt it behind her back. She was
gently pushed back until her buttocks rested against the edge of one of the
standard 6 foot beds. She worked out what the hand was doing back there
when a few moments later her bra came off. Mike knelt down, and bit her on
her left nipple, hard. Too hard. Nicola gasped, and pulled back,
overbalancing and falling on the bed. Mike glanced up, a grin full upon his
face, and climbed over her. His weight forced her legs apart, his face
buried between her breasts, which he had decided were distinctly one of the
best parts of her. He obviously thought there were other good bits too, but
they seemed to be slightly below her waist, because that was where his
hands were. They stroked roughly up the sides of her thighs, as he licked
her breasts, and he began to rub himself against Nicola. Nicola was pinned
with Mikes full weight on top of her, her arms behind her, trapped between
her and the bed. The handcuffs were digging into her back, and suddenly, as
mike was unzipping his pants, she came to the sudden realization that
perhaps Mike wasn't the supreme nice guy that she thought he was. This lead
to all sorts of realizations about exactly what sort of situation she was
in, and Nicola justifiably became very agitated and began squirming around.
Mike took this entirely the wrong way, and his grin quickly became
something that most people, upon seeing, immediately want to either hit
with a fairly solid object or run away from very fast.
Mike looked down at the struggling woman, hands trapped behind her back,
large, erect breasts glistening with saliva in the dim light, (he hadn't
turned on the room lights and the only illumination was coming from the
half-moon outside) and noticed how attractively they moved as she
struggled. She was certainly aroused, and, despite the effects of the
alcohol, Mike was beginning to feel a little cramped inside his clothes. He
decided that now was the perfect time to solve that.
He pulled his jeans down to his knees, and Nicola couldn't help but notice
that he wasn't wearing anything underneath. He stood hard and erect over
her, and she suddenly became very scared.
"No." Nicola said, very quietly.
Mike grabbed her breasts again, and massaged them deeply and quickly. Mike
was convinced that the best was to get a woman to open up was to press the
'right buttons', and the only buttons that he really thought about were the
large ones he was currently kneading like a sesame loaf.
"No." Nicola said again, only slightly louder.
"Shut up, bitch, you'll do as I say." Mike also laboured under the
misapprehension that all women also liked being dominated, no matter what
the situation.
"Stop it!" She said, rather loudly this time. Mike shuffled up so that he
straddled her chest, and his dick hung down and perched rather neatly
between her breasts. He began sliding it backwards and forwards.
"Get off! Stop it!" She was rather strident this time, and began to
struggle.
Mike took this as his sign. He moved forwards and shoved his dick full into
Nicola's mouth, and began thrusting.
Nicola gagged. Her mouth involuntarily opened fully, and her head jerked
back, pressing deep against the bed beneath. This is what Mike's technique
counted on, and he shoved his cock deep into her throat. He was beginning
to work himself up. Nicola was in a blind panic, her pretty throat moving
silently out of time with the thrusts. Mike was positive that he was going
to have a great climax, if he didn't suffocate Nicola first.
Then Nicola's head cleared. Everything in the room became bright and
distinct. Every droplet of sweat on her body suddenly took on a life and
personality of its own, every dust mote in the room was caught in her
horrified gaze, from which the horror then melted away. Her permanent frown
briefly vanished. She felt that she had come out of a tiny side tunnel into
the great cavern of her mind. Everything was suddenly so obvious and real.
She has entered a private headspace that she had never known to exist, and
was suddenly torn between the great joy of discovery, and the remembrance
that she was choking to death.
She bit down hard. Much harder than Mike had bitten her breast. Hard enough
to draw blood, which she felt suddenly spring from the tips of her canines
and wash tiny drops onto her tongue. Mike hollered and sprang back, his
trapped cock pulling Nicola's head with him. His powerful legs pushed and
he shot backwards off the bed and onto the floor as Nicola released him.
Mike lay on the floor, holding his damaged testicles, moaning loudly and
calling "You Bitch!! You fucking Bitch! I'm gonna kill you!" But despite
all his threats he simply lay there.
Nicola had lifted herself off the bed, and picked up her bra, still with
her hands behind her back. She still inhabited that special space inside
her mind, and that gave her supreme confidence. She moved like a cat, found
the door locked, and pulled the key from Mikes jeans, still down around his
knees. As she backed away, Mike grabbed her arm, and used her to drag
himself back up until he was sitting upright. She looked back around, and
into his face. Her confidence shattered into a billion fragments, and each
one was her as they fell under that hating gaze from Mike. She pulled away
from him, and jumped to the door. She was panicking again, and it took long
seconds to fit the key into the door as Mike hauled himself to a standing
position, from which he was able to glower with a menacing capacity that
surpassed belief. She faced him, feeling for the handle with her cuffed
hands.
Nicola wrenched open the door and ran out into the corridor, Mike not far
behind. He stopped when he realised his state, hobbling after a half naked
woman with his pants now around his ankles, blood dripping from his sac. He
picked up the dropped keys and returned to his room. He shut the door to
Nicola forever.
Nicola ran, suddenly aware of her semi-nudity, her long-serving personal
demon of self-consciousness preventing her from knocking on any doors for
help. Up a flight of stairs when she heard voices behind her - She could
not handle a crowd now. Mike's shout must have attracted attention.
Suddenly a door opened ahead to her left, and a hand came out and grabbed
her. She spun around, almost fell over, and was about to scream when she
saw the owner of the hand.
He was tall and gaunt. He couldn't have been any older than Nicola, but his
face seemed hollowed out by the weevils of experience as they make their
hollow homes for all the hurt and anguish that the world can lay upon you.
His deep brown eyes met Nicola's, and she instantly felt a trust for this
person. He spoke quickly, and his eyes darted down the corridor. "Come in,
quick!" She heard someone coming up the stairs, shoes shuffling against the
tiled steps. She looked again at the gaunt young man, thin and tired, and
accepted.
She stepped in, and he closed the door after, turning his key in the lock,
but leaving the key in the door. The light was dim, coming from a desk lamp
in one corner that sat and brooded over a stack of thick books with brown
covers. The standard metal-tubing bed was against the far wall, below the
window, and beside her sat a tall round table with a marble chessboard on
it, a game in progress. Neat rows of pieces were lined up beside the board,
and a sheet of paper covered with notation lay on the white side. She
wondered briefly who the other player was, seeing no-one else in the room,
and on second glance saw that the white king was in checkmate. Black had
won.
She turned her attention back to the thin man. He had dark hair, dark eyes,
deep set into his face, and skin so fair one would doubt that he ever saw
the sun. The curtains were drawn across the window. His concern for Nicola
was almost palpable in the room. He quickly picked up the top blanket from
the bed, and draped it across Nicola's heaving chest. Nicola held the edges
behind her back. The man pulled up a chair from beside the chess table and
bade Nicola to sit down.
"Are you all right?" The quick voice came again, dancing over the vowels in
a peculiar way.
"Yes." Nicola panted "How did you know?"
"Michael's room is below mine." He looked sharply down at the floor and
back up into her eyes. Nicola remember how the stairs turned. She must have
run back the way she came when she came out of the stairwell.
"I saw you and..." He stopped, and seemed suddenly to be staring at the
corner of her mouth. She found this most disconcerting and yelped slightly
when his hand reached up and touched her. His fingers pinched around
something and then drew back away from her mouth. She saw what it was. It
was a pubic hair.
The man contemplated it for a second, and then a wave of intense fury
crossed his face as he looked back at his feet. The anger left as quickly
as it came, and Nicola suddenly realized that she was trembling, and
trembling very badly. Tears welled up in her eyes, she leaned forward and
managed to fall off her chair.
The man caught her, and they spent ten minutes in that position: Nicola,
naked from the waist up, with a set of handcuffs restraining her, sobbing,
being held on the floor of the room by the tall man. Her head rested on his
shoulder, and her shirt trailed behind her, The blanket sandwiched between
them. The man simply held her, and she felt safe.
The story began pouring out of her, the nightclub, Mike, the forced oral
sex (thank god he hadn't come, she suddenly thought) and the flight. He
listened. She found herself wanting this man, wanting him to hold her all
night, and wanting to feel as safe as this for ever.
"I love you" He said.
"What?" She said.
"I said that I love you." He repeated. The voice was flat, but st the same
time filled with hidden emotion.
Nicola thought about this for a second. The idea was too absurd, to silly.
But she felt something else.
"I love you, Nicola."
That was it, she thought. She hadn't told him her name. She remembered
half-memories of someone following her, someone watching her almost ever
since she began at the College. More a feeling than an experience. Friends
occasionally mentioned seeing a tall...
She looked at him, with her eyes that look into your soul, and knew him.
His brown eyes looked back, intimately knowing her. They mirrored each
other in their eyes, seeing the reflections of themselves in purer and purer
forms, as if they were progressively distilled of their essence the deeper
they went. The bond was formed, and the relationship clear.
"You can begin," she began "by helping me take off these handcuffs."
He removed a paperclip from a nearby sheaf of papers, and with a little
unbending, and some clearly knowledgeable twists of his wrist, the cuffs
were off.
"I think" she said as she stood up, letting the blanket drop from between
them "that I love you too." and so saying, leant forward and kissed him.
This was the last thing that either of them expected, but what else can
happen when two people fall almost instantly, completely, and
unconditionally in love.
Nicola wondered what was happening as she reached down to his crotch. She
had been raped by a drunk maniac only half an hour ago, what the hell was
she doing! But she knew that she was right this time. This time, she was
the one in control. She proved this by putting the handcuffs of him.
Unfortunately he still had the paperclip, resulting in a quick
snap-snap-clatter as the cuffs hit the ground, and she realised that
alternative was needed. She took his shirt off as he caressed her breasts,
and kissed her below her chin. His fingers traced the fine lines in her
neck as she took off his pants. He suckled her earlobe as she pushed him
back onto the bed. She experienced a momentary lapse of bad deja vu as her
hips touched the cold metal tubing of the bed. A thought struck her and she
went to his closet. On the way she turned out the light.
Clothes were lined up neatly, and the ever-present row of tasteful neckties
beckoned in the encroaching moonlight. She chose the four longest ones, and
climbed back onto him. She kissed him a little longer, and began exploring
his body with her hands. She fondled his cock and he pressed up against
her. His hands were busy with her breasts, and to much better effect than
Mike's poor efforts. She was almost driven beyond distraction, but regained
enough presence of mind to begin fastening his hands to the tubular
bedframe with the neckties. She missed the caresses that his hands offered,
but he lay back and sighed as she returned the favour. Soon his ankles were
secured too, and he was naked, spreadeagled on a bed. This offered many new
possibilities.
Nicola began biting his breasts, grasping his cock between her legs, still
with her pants on. He began to struggle, and she rubbed up against him,
exciting them both. Then she stood up on the bed, one foot either side of
his chest, and dropped her pants. She threw them on the floor, and then
knelt straddling his chest, wearing only her lace white panties. Soon these
were gone too.
She kissed him one last time, then then ground her pussy into his face. He
bared his teeth, and began using his tongue and lips inside her. He nibbled
gently at her clit and she began rising and falling on his face. He gasped
for breath as she rocked off him each time, but never spoke a word.
The thrusting sped up, and suddenly Nicola was back in her private
headspace, everything crystal clear and with the contrast of a sun in a
black sky. But this time it was different. This time she had the thrill of
control and the sudden explosion of pleasure as she orgasmed. She rode him
high, he strained against his bonds, and someone thumped up at the floor
from below them in complaint.
She slowed and finally got off. This time it was her turn to pick the pubic
hair from the corner of his mouth. They both grinned like maniacs. Happy
maniacs.
She released the bonds, and again felt his hands caress across her breasts.
She slid down until she straddled his hips, her hands planted under his
armpits, kissing him from the top. They rubbed together as she lowed
herself so that her breasts flattened against his chest. They kissed. He
entered her and his hands cupped her buttocks. He thrusted up, she drove
down, pulled against him by his firm grip. Long moments passed and sweat
mingled as midnight came and went.
Later, they lay in each others arms, and she wondered what his name was.
--
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they are posted. For more info on the ARCHIVE postings, read the FAQ posted
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